


Silken Sails

by justthehiddles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Female pirates, Gen, Kissing, Pirates, Treasure Hunting, carribean, female posing as a male, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23117818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthehiddles/pseuds/justthehiddles
Summary: Charlotte Liddell dreams of a life of adventure on the high seas.  She sets sail for the Caribbean which ends up entangling her with the hunt for the lost Spanish ship Viuda Negra and untold Spanish treasures.  Along the way, she crosses paths with British Navy Officer Steve Rogers and famed French pirate Loki Laufeyson.  Will she keep her wits about her?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s), Loki/Original Female Character, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. A Life More Ordinary

“Child, come away from the window!” Charlotte's mother’s voice rang off the walls of the small kitchen.

Rebecca Liddell was a woman made of hard work and no time for frivolity. There was a tavern and inn to run. She needed her sixteen-year-old daughter manning the fire, not staring at the window breathing in the sea air and daydreaming.

Charlotte stepped away from the window and back to the reality of her life. Her father owned the Captain’s Quarter, which meant he was often away, leaving his wife Rebecca in charge.

“Sorry, Mother.” she turned her attention to the large pot over the fire.

Her younger brother, William, stoked the flames of the hearth’s fire as she stirred the stew which would serve as the inn’s fare for the evening.

“Honestly, child…” she tutted as she set about with the business of getting ready for the dinner rush. “… I don’t understand where your head is sometimes.”

“Why can’t I go with Papa? To buy from the merchants? I’m good with numbers.” she whined.

“Charlotte Liddell!” her mother slammed the bowl against the table. “That is no way for a proper lady to speak. If anyone were to accompany your father, it would be William.”

William groaned, and Charlotte hung her head. Every week she questioned why she had to stay behind. And every week her Mother muttered about how Charlotte was such an impertinent child. Her mother worried Charlotte would never find a suitable husband, what with all the blathering on about adventures of the high sea.

Charlotte shuffled out to the public dining area to find it already bustling. For the rest of the evening, she had no moment’s rest. It was well into the evening when her mother and William fell asleep. She grabbed her cloak and slipped out the window, leaving it open for her return.

She walked with purpose to the docks at the edge of the town. Her soft shoes padded against the well-worn roads until she could hear the lapping of water against wood in the distance.

Her pace quickened until the cool sea air hit her cheeks. She inhaled the salt, and her heart raced. This is where I belong, she reflected as she closed her eyes and sat down on the wooden planks of the docks.

Charlotte rocked back and forth to rhythmic thuds of the ships moored. It soothed her better than any lullaby.

“Who goes there?” a deep voice echoed through the night air as Charlotte noticed heavy boots approaching her at a heavy clip.

She rose and smoothed out her skirt as she hustled to meet the man. It was Mr. Allen, the man in charge of the docks.

“You again,” he sneered. “How many times have you been told not to loiter about here?”

“I… I…” Charlotte searched for a plausible lie when a strong hand fell upon her shoulder.

“She came to deliver me a message.” the male voice answered. Charlotte turned to see her rescuer.

The man wore his dark blonde hair short and his clothes were simple but well made.

“And you would be?” Mr. Allen narrowed his eyes at the two of them.

“Clint Barton. From the Hawk.” Mr. Barton squared his shoulders to Mr. Allen.

The dockmaster took a step back. “My apologies, Mr. Barton.”

“It’s all right, Mr…” Mr. Barton raised an eyebrow.

“… Allen.” He puffed his chest. “I’ve been the dockmaster round these parts for 15 years. And I have been catching this one…” Mr. Allen jabbed a figure at Charlotte, who ducked behind Clint. “… sneaking around for almost as long.”

Clint chuckled. “You are a true watchman, Mr. Allen. Now if you don’t mind, I shall escort the girl home before she is missed.”

Mr. Allen nodded as he stepped aside to allow them passage into town. He glared as Charlotte walked by, her eyes never leaving the ground.

They made their way through town until they came to the darkened front of the inn and tavern.

“Thank you, sir. I owe you a debt for your kindness.” She didn’t dare look up.

“Nonsense, dear. Just save me an extra helping of the delicious stew tomorrow and consider the debt repaid.”

She nodded her head and snuck around the back to the window. Her nerves so frayed, she forgot to close it upon her return.

-

Rebecca woke up to a chill in the air and a sore throat.

“Who left this window open?!” she exclaimed as she latched it tight.

Charlotte wandered in to find her mother scowling. “I must have forgotten last night.”

She swatted at Charlotte. “You careless child! Are you trying to have all of us catch the death?!”

Charlotte covered her head from the blows of the rag in her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, Mother!”

William came in coughing. Her mother glared, and she hurried out of sight to get ready for the day’s work.

As the day wore on, Rebecca and William grew more and more sick. William’s cough deepened, and soon his mother sent him to bed. Which meant the preparations took twice as long.

“Charlotte, child,” her mother beckoned her from the stove. A thin layer of sweat covered her mother’s pallor complexion. “I am not going to make it through tonight.”

Charlotte paled. She realized what that meant. And it was her fault.

“Yes, Mama. I can handle it tonight.”

Rebecca pressed a hot kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Thank you dear.”

Charlotte nodded and smoothed out her skirts as she walked to begin the long night.

-

The night moved as a blur of serving, cleaning, and collecting payment. Charlotte didn’t get to rest until right before closing. The door opened, and a young man walked in.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

She considered that the frail boy could use a fattening up. But it wasn’t her place to comment.

“A good meal, if you please.” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, mister.” Charlotte shuffled to the kitchen and heaved a large serving of the night’s stew, scrounging up some dark bread for him. She placed the food in front of him.

He tucked in, moaning at the taste. “Thanks, miss. This might be the last good meal I have for a while.”

Charlotte tilted her head in confusion.

“Midshipman Steven Rogers, reporting for duty tomorrow with the Royal Navy.”

Charlotte smiled. “I wish you well. Hopefully the meal will remind you what your service protects.”

Steve smiled, and Charlotte left him to eat. She cleaned up for the evening as the patrons filtered out. Steve waved as he left with a full belly, and Charlotte returned the wave. She gathered the dirty dishes for washing, forgetting to latch the door.

She heard the door open and turned. “Sorry, we are—”

“But you promised to save me some stew this evening.”

Charlotte smiled at the voice of Clint. “Of course, Mr. Barton.” She wiped her hands and entered the kitchen. She spooned the last of the stew and cut a thick slab of bread.

“Thank you.” Clint smiled. “Could you pour me an ale?”

Charlotte nodded and shuffled off to pour one. “Here you go, Mr. Barton.”

“Please call me Clint, Ms…”

“Charlotte Liddell.” she cast her eyes downward.

“Charlotte.” His lips curved into a smile. “The mistress of the docks.” Charlotte blushed. “Why was a young lady like yourself wandering the docks at night?”

“I enjoy listening to the sound of the oceans. The ships knocking against the docks.”

“You dream of adventure.” Clint commented into his ale. “Or would prefer the life of marriage and having children?”

Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “It would be improper to discuss.”

Clint took a large swig of ale, finishing it. “Pardon me for overstepping. It is unusual to find a young lady looking for more than a husband. You remind me of my wife.”

“Is she back at your home?”

Clint’s face fell, and she realized her mistake.

“There was a hurricane this past year in Port Royal. Took out half my crop. My wife and son didn’t make it.” He sniffled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She turned to walk away, but Clint gestured for her to stop and sit.

“You wouldn’t. I don’t speak of them much. I had hoped to find a new wife on my travels here, but we sail in tomorrow evening and I believe my luck has run short.”

Charlotte swallowed hard. This may be her ticket out, she thought. “I wish you well on your journey.”

Clint rose and wiped his hands on his pants. “To you as well. If you think about it, the Hawk sails at dusk tomorrow. Perhaps I will see you again before we sail.” He gave a small wink as the door clicked behind him.

Charlotte latched the door and leaned against it, her head thudding on the wood. She finished the evening chores distracted. She wasn’t certain what Clint was proposing. A marriage? Adventure? The prospect of something else was enticing. Charlotte drifted off to sleep that night dreaming of the Caribbean.

-

“Where is your head, girl!” Rebecca yelled as Charlotte bobbled a large bowl, it shattering on the floor.

“Sorry, Mama.” Charlotte apologized as she gathered the large pieces of the now broken bowl.

“I don’t know how you expect to find a husband being so clumsy.” Rebecca tsked.

“What if I don’t wish to marry?” Charlotte commented in a quiet voice.

Her mother slammed the spoon down on the table. “Not marry!? Have you gone mad, Charlotte Liddell? How do you expect to make your way in this world without a husband?”

“Well, I thought—”

“Exactly the problem. Thinking too much. Listening to the stories of the sailors coming into the tavern.”

“But Mama—”

“Not buts, child. That was my best bowl. Go to see Mrs. Miller has one we can use. Perhaps the walk will clear your head.”

Rebecca shuttled Charlotte out the door. Ms. Miller lived across the town, and she soon passed the docks. Charlotte wandered down to where the Hawk was moored.

“Can I help you, miss?” a gruff voice called from the deck.

“I wanted to inquire as to how much passage would cost to Port Royal?”

“And who might be asking?”

“I’m asking for myself.” Charlotte stood a little straighter.

“I’m not having any single woman traveling on my boat.” the man exclaimed. “It is bad luck.”

“I would ask you to take care how you speak to my bride.” a familiar voice rang out.

Charlotte smiled as she saw Clint coming up the dock.

“Apologies Mr. Barton. I didn’t know.” the man on deck groveled.

Clint’s arm slid around Charlotte’s waist protectively.

“Thank you, sir. Now can you answer the ladies’ question?”

The man muttered a number. Charlotte turned to leave. “I owe you once again, Mr.—Clint.”

“I am at your service, Charlotte. I hoped I would see you again.”

“Now if you excuse me. I have matters to attend to.” She hurried away before Clint could ask another question.

She hurried to Ms. Miller’s and got the bowl. Charlotte ran home, careful to not break this bowl. Her mother snatched it from her hands.

“Why did you take so long?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” she lied.

Rebecca placed the back of her hand on Charlotte’s forehead.

“You are a touch warm. Finish up the cooking and cleaning and then have a lie down.”

Charlotte nodded and set to work. She moved slowly, not wanting to finish until the evening rush started. Charlotte headed to her bed before long. Instead curling up on the bed, she grabbed a small bag and packed up a few changes of clothes along with a small pouch filled with coins to pay for her passage. The sun threatened to set at any moment and she had no time to waste.

As she pushed the window open, she heard a noise behind her.

“Mama wants to know—” William asked, stopping as he saw her bag. “Where are you going?”

“Away.” She pulled him into a quick hug. “I must hurry. Tell Mama I am still not well.”

“But—” She hugged him again.

“I will miss you, brother.” She pushed her bag out the window and soon followed, walking away from the only life she knew.

Charlotte walked at a casual pace at first, not wanting to arouse suspicion from the passing people on the streets. But as the docks came into view, she took off at a run, fearful she was too late.

The Hawk came into view, silhouetted by the setting sun. The men on deck readied the ship for departure. She clambered up the ramp, and her feet hit the deck with a soft thump.

“I thought you had decided for a life more ordinary.” Clint commented as he took her bag. “I’m glad you didn’t.” He smiled.

Charlotte’s stomach flipped. Her mind raced. Jump off the ship? Or stay and change her life forever? The decision was made for her as the ship unmoored and drifted away from the dock. She remained glued to the railing until Bristol was just a dot on the horizon.

“Welcome to my ship, the Hawk.” Clint commented as he came behind her.

Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “I thought it was the captain’s ship?”

Clint chuckled. “The captain runs to ship when it is at sea but I own the ship, just as I own my plantation and everything else.” His hand gripped her shoulder possessively.

“I was not aware.”

“Let’s discuss that and a great many other things.” Clint led her away from the railing and the view of everything she knew and towards her future, whatever that may be.


	2. The Legend of El Hombre de Hierro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte has settled into life aboard the Hawk with Clint. After the death of the ship’s cook, Charlotte takes over duties as cook. The ship changes course to hunt for the treasure of La Viuda Negra and the famed Spanish pirate, Antonio Áspero. But they are not the only ones looking and they encounter the French pirate, Loki Laufeyson. How will Charlotte fare?

Life at sea was not what Charlotte expected. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but she didn’t expect to be heaving overboard every ten minutes. This continued for the better part of a week before Clint took pity upon her and gave her a spicy tasting root to chew on, soothing her stomach.

Once she got her “sea legs”, Charlotte spent most of her days exploring the ship. In particular where the cook stayed and prepared the day’s food. She was most comfortable in a kitchen of any sort and for another. The cook was the only man besides Clint who didn’t leer at her at every opportunity.

“Ignore them, my dear.” Clint offered when she brought it up one evening.

“It is hard to ignore ten sets of eyes boring right to your soul.”

“You must try.” Clint kissed her forehead. “They would never lay a hand on you with me on board.”

Charlotte squirmed at the thought. “I am certain but I still notice them undressing me with their eyes.”

“Rid your head of these notions. If their stares bother you so, perhaps you would prefer to stay away from prying eyes?”

“Where you suggest I stay?”

“The ship’s kitchen might work. The cook is half blind. And the rest of the men avoid it.”

Charlotte smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

Clint smiled back. “I like when you are happy. I hope you are as happy when we arrive at Port Royal.”

She stifled a shudder. Charlotte found her unexpected betrothal unsettling. She left Bristol to find adventure, not a husband and a life of keeping house and tending to children. She would need to find a way out of the arrangement, but for now her priority was to survive the voyage.

-

“Here is how I would use the salt pork.” the old man explained as he chopped the meat and slid it into the big pot.

Charlotte sat in awe as the half blind cook worked miracles with the modest food aboard ship. Crandall was the cook’s name and the amount of knowledge far outstripped anything she learned at her mother’s skirts. She spent every day learning from him.

“And this—” Crandall opened up a cloth to cough into. “will add the flavor.” He sprinkled a powder over the stew.

“And you sure you are well, Crandall?” Charlotte inquired. She seen enough back home to realize what was happening.

“Right as rain, love.” Crandall lied. “Now stir until bubbling.”

Within the week Crandall was dead, his body tossed overboard. And Charlotte took over the duties of the ship’s cook. The men soon started hanging out around the kitchen more and more.

“If I had realized the view was so nice, I would have stepped in here a long time ago.” A man called Mullins commented.

He ran his hand up Charlotte’s sleeve. She wore the breeches and shirts of a man with her dark auburn hair tied up behind he. Charlotte found her skirts cumbersome on the ship.

Charlotte slammed a hand down on the table. “Can I help you with anything?”

His lips curled to a smile, exposing his yellowed teeth. “Many things, love, but we would need to rid you of these…” He tugged at the shoulder of her shirt as he leaned on the table. “… garments.”

In a flash, Charlotte grabbed the knife and thrust it into the tabletop, centimeters away from Mullins’s hand. She turned around and landed a knee to his groin. “My garments shall stay where they are. And I suggest if you like to keep your body parts where they are, you steer clear of me.”

Mullins backed away in a hurry. From then on, the men avoided the kitchen and Charlotte. The weeks dragged on, and she settled into a routine, cooking by day and listening to Clint tell stories at night.

“The men are talking.” she muttered one night as she changed for the night.

“About what?” Clint pulled the blankets back.

“They say we changed course. That we are going on the search for something.”

“Have you ever heard of Antonio Áspero?”

She shook her head. “No… Is that some sort of pirate?”

“Only the most feared Spanish pirate to sail the Caribbean. The stories say he wore a metal plate under his clothes in battle. It earned him the nickname El Hombre de Hierro or Iron Man.”

Charlotte settled underneath the blankets. “And why would we change course because of him?”

“His last voyage was to deliver the dowry of a Spanish noblewoman to the Carolinas. They say the dowry’s worth rivaled the Crown Jewels. But the ship disappeared in a storm off the shore of an uncharted island. The men think they have found the location of that island in a logbook.”

Clint pulled out a folded piece of paper and showed it to Charlotte. “This logbook speaks of an island of wrecked ships not far off of the intended course of Antonio’s ship.”

He folded the paper again and tucked back into the pouch around his neck. “A treasure that great is too much for any man to pass up.”

Charlotte settled against Clint’s chest. His even breath soothing her. “Tell me more about Antonio Áspero.”

She drifted off to sleep in Clint’s arms that night, hearing of the tales of the Spanish pirate and his ship La Viuda Negra.

-

Charlotte woke to the ship rocking and rumbling. She dressed and ran up to the deck. A fog settled low on the water. The men scuttled about the deck as Charlotte stood dumbfounded. Clint bumped against her shoulder, carrying a bow and arrow.

“We are under attack, love!” He yelled. “Hide in the galley. If they capture you, tell them you’re Charles Liddell, the ship’s cook.” He kissed her and shoved the pouch into her hand. “Keep this safe.”

She nodded as she headed under deck and Clint climbed one of the masts, weapon in hand. Charlotte shut the door behind her and moved a barrel in front of the door. There was rumbling and cracking of wood. The entire ship threatened to tip from the shaking. A great boom shook the ship as the mainmast fell from a grapeshot. Then silence.

Charlotte backed up against the wall. The sound of voices muffled by the wooden planks of the decks above. The door rattled as someone on the other side of the door tried to open it.

She cowered in a corner and ducked her head as the wooden door splintered, and two men stepped through the door.

“What do we have here?” the taller man said as he caught sight of Charlotte in the corner.

“Oi, boy!” the other man with a scraggly beard gestured for her to step out.

Charlotte scrambled to her feet and pulled up to her full height.

“What’s your name, boy?” Tall Man asked.

“Charles Liddell. I’m the ship’s cook.” She recited just as Clint told her to.

“Young to be a cook.” Scraggly Beard said to Tall Man.

“The former cook died some weeks back. I took over duties.” She summoned all her courage. She prayed her true identity was not found out.

“Take him up on deck. Captain’s orders.”

Scraggly Beard grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt and dragged her out of the room with Charlotte’s feet scrambling for purchase on the floor. Once on deck, she was tossed towards the rest of the crew. Charlotte looked around for Clint, but there was no sign of him. Her heart sank.

“Gentleman…” a rich voice cut through the noise on deck. “… I am search of a specific item.”

The pirates parted to allow the man that Charlotte can only guess would be the captain to address them. Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. The captain was breathtaking, with a long black and green coat and long raven hair falling upon his shoulders. Charlotte had never seen such a handsome man.

“Can anyone help me?” he grinned as he nodded at one of his crew grabbed the nearest Hawk crew member and dragged him to his feet. “You look like an enterprising fellow.” The captain’s lips curled into a devilish smile. “Can you help me find a logbook?”

The man, Nelson his name, paled. “All the logs are in the captain’s quarters!” he screeched. “I don’t know anything more Captain Loki!”

Loki’s head dropped. “Pity.” He raised a hand to the man holding Nelson by the arm. That man raised his knife and slit Nelson’s throat with no warning. Charlotte turned her head at the sight and gagged. “My men already checked the captain’s quarters and found nothing.”

Loki stepped forward as his crew pitched Nelson’s body overboard. The buckles on his belt clinked against the metal of his sword’s scabbard. “Anyone else ready to help with the location of the logbook? Or should I find another volunteer?”

The tone of his voice caused shivers to run up and down Charlotte’s spine. Surely he won’t kill us all, Charlotte thought. She then remembered Clint’s stories of the treasure and realized the pouch around her neck held what Loki was looking for.

“I can show you where it is Captain.” Mullins’ voice stated. “I can take your men to it.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Mullins. She should have known the man would turn on Clint and the rest of the crew the moment it gave him an advantage. He was nothing more than mercenary.

Loki gave Mullins the once over with suspicious eyes. “Parks! Follow this man. If he does anything not to your liking, kill him.”

A man stepped forward and grabbed Mullins hard by the shoulder as Mullins led them down below deck. Charlotte knew where he was taking them, to the bed Clint and her shared. She gave silent thanks that she had torn her dress to rags weeks ago. Several minutes passed as Loki paced the deck. His eyes caught Charlotte’s, and he gave a smile which caused her stomach to flip into her throat.

Mullins emerged with logbook in hand, a broad grin upon his face. “Here you go, Captain. As promised.”

Loki snatched the book away with slender fingers, his hands ran up and down the cover. “Excellent work. Parks…”

Parks grabbed Mullins from behind and held a blade tight against his throat. “But I gave you what you wanted!”

“And you did so eagerly and willingly. I can’t have a man whose loyalty sways with the changing wind on my crew.” Parks drew the blade across and Mullins died with a gurgle.

Charlotte wished she pitied poor Mullins’s untimely death, but the man was a flea and in her heart deserved to die.

Loki gathered his crew and they spoke amongst themselves.

“What are they doing?” Charlotte asked the crew member closest to her.

“Deciding who they will take on board as crew from the Hawk.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened, she didn’t know which prospect was more scary, being left to float in the sea on the Hawk or being recruit aboard Loki’s ship.

“Liddell!” Tall Man called out. Charlotte rose to her feet. The other men looked at her with varying expressions of horror and pity.

Charlotte walked until she stood toe to toe with Loki. “Sir?”

Loki leaned close to her face. “Already compliant. I will like you. Our ship is in desperate need of a competent cook. I hear you may be able to fulfill that role.”

“You have the supplies, I can cook it.” She boasted.

“Confident boy, aren’t you. Welcome to the crew of Le Méfait. Find Quartermaster Moss and sign the contract.”

Loki stepped away, and Charlotte shuffled along with the rest of the crew. She found aboard Le Méfait and face to face with a gruff elderly man.

“Charles Liddell?” He looked her up and down.

“Sir.”

“Here.” He shoved a piece of paper underneath Charlotte’s nose. “Everyone gets an even share of our haul. Captain gets an extra share. Keep your pistol fit for service. No smoking.”

Charlotte’s mind swirled with at all the information coming in at once. She never expected pirates to be this organized.

“Oh…” Moss continued. “… and we settle all disputes by first blood.”

Charlotte scrawled the name “Charles Liddell” onto the paper.

-

Charlotte did her best to keep a low profile on board, sticking to the kitchen as much as possible. Unlike aboard the Hawk, the crew of Le Méfait kept out of the kitchen. Except for the Captain.

Loki Laufeyson believed it was his obligation as captain to observed the day-to-day operations of his ship and crew. He found himself more often than not lingering in the ship’s kitchen. There was something about the ship’s newest cook that intrigued him. He needed to know more about Charles Liddell.

“What is that delicious aroma?”

“Stew.” Charlotte answered, not raising her head to acknowledge her captain.

Every day it was the same. Loki made some excuse to spent time in the kitchen with her. She did her best to answer his questions without raising any suspicion.

“And where did you learn to cook such appetizing food?” Loki grabbed one of the knives and flipped it in his hand.

Charlotte searched for a plausible story. Telling Loki she learned at the skirts of her mother would create more questions. Loki’s eyes pierced right through Charlotte. She found his stare so unnerving and yet she did not want him to leave.

“Uh..” she fiddled with a nearby rag. “… Crandall, the Hawk’s former cook, taught me everything.” She hoped the answer would satisfy the captain’s curiosity for another day.

Loki leaned forward and plucked a cut vegetable off the table before popping it into his mouth. “He must have been a talented cook.”

“Thank you, Captain. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must tend to the flame.”

Loki nodded and turned to leave. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. The tight breeches hugged the curves of Loki’s backside in a way that made Charlotte’s cheeks flushed. She was so distracted she allowed her arm to travel into the flame.

“Shit!” she screamed as she flailed her arm in the air in a vain attempt to extinguish the flames.

In a flash, Loki tore her shirt from her body and threw it to the ground where he stomped upon the fabric.

“Are you okay?” He asked as Charlotte cowered to hide her torso.

“Fine. Just leave!” she bit back.

Loki spied strips of fabric covering her body.

“Mr. Liddell, are you injured? We a doctor—” Loki reached for her.

“I’m fine, Captain! Just leave it be.”

“If you are not injured, then why…” Loki’s eyes widened in realization. “… oh.”

With her back to him, Loki plucked the ribbon holding back Charlotte’s hair and the deep red strands fall along the bare skin of her back.

“I have been blind. What is your proper name, girl?” Loki’s fingers lighted on Charlotte’s shoulder.

She turned, and Loki saw the tears on her cheeks. “Charlotte. Charlotte Liddell.”

Loki licked his lips. “Well my dear Charlotte, it is rare one can keep secrets so well from me for so long.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Please don’t kill me.” she begged.

A hearty laugh bubbled up from Loki’s chest. “And lose the best cook the ship has had in years? I think not.”

“But having a woman on board is bad luck.”

Loki flicked a lock of hair off her Charlotte’s shoulder, his finger traced her collarbone. “I have never subscribed to such antiquated ideas. You are of use to the ship, therefore you are welcome aboard.”

Charlotte gave a smile. “Thank you.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

Loki’s eyes lingered on Charlotte’s curves. “I’m certain you would never disappoint me, dove.”


End file.
